


Oh for Fawkes Sake!

by gardnerhill



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: 500 Words Challenge, Community: holmes_minor, Gen, Guy Fawkes Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 08:47:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8483026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: Those who ignore history…





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the Holmes Minor November 2016 prompt: _Fireworks_

I’d seen only the usual outdoor activity in anticipation of that November evening. I’d prepared by ensuring that my purse was well-stocked with pennies before leaving Baker Street, and an amused Holmes had done the same; we had brightened the faces of many boys trundling their Guys in barrows during our errands throughout the day.  
  
But Sherlock Holmes had seen more than I had, as usual. He froze, and his imperious tone rang out with authority, startling me.  
  
“Hi! You two! Turn around!”  
  
Only then did I notice the two boys who’d had their heads together, sniggering – nearly the only lads not accompanied by a Fawkes effigy. Both froze and faced us, eyes wide with feigned innocence. Their plump, ruddy-cheeked faces and unpatched clothing bespoke the children of comfortably middle-class parents – a far cry from the dirty, gaunt faces of Wiggins and the other Irregulars.  
  
Holmes eyed them like a schoolmaster interrupting a note-passing session. “It’s no good, you two – Mr. Guido Fawkes and no doubt his associate Mr. Robert Catesby. Once again your dastardly plot is foiled – even if only in miniature. Your sister’s dollhouse will remain as intact as is Parliament. Now hand them over.”  
  
The taller lad, a striking redhead, looked mulish. “We haven’t got –“  
  
“Tosh. In your right rear pocket – and your tow-headed younger brother has them in his left jacket pocket. You shouldn’t have patted their hiding places when I called out.” Holmes’ own gloved hand went out, flat and open, palm up.  
  
Red-faced with more than the cold now, the boys withdrew their hands from the aforesaid pockets and dropped their firecrackers into the sleuth’s palm.  
  
Holmes closed his hand. “Your family resides on Arlington Street, I perceive. I trust there will be no need for me to go there, inquire of the neighbours to find your home, and explain all to your mother.”  
  
The boys paled at his words. I sympathised with them; what lad would not prefer drawing and quartering to that horrendous fate? “Nossir,” they whispered together.  
  
“Then begone.” Holmes waved his walking stick with the other hand, and both lads were away like a gunshot. We waited until they were out of sight before laughing heartily.  
  
“Well spotted, Holmes! At the least you’ve saved a little girl’s pride and joy, and have very likely prevented an injury, arson, or tragedy.” Though I enjoyed the excitement and fun of Bonfire Night, I loathed the burns and maimings I too often tended the day after. “Er…what are you doing, old man?”  
  
Sherlock Holmes had pocketed the Chinese contraband and once again slipped his free hand into the crook of my arm. “This is fortuitous indeed, Watson. I’d needed some small doses of gunpowder for a few of my experiments. I’m sure Mrs. Hudson won’t mind a little broken glass. It’s time we were home.”  
  
I only just refrained from palming my face. No wonder Holmes had instantly deduced the lads’ intentions – he’d been looking into a mirror. “Right you are. Guido.”


End file.
